


Russian Blues

by Gozufucker



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Cats, Gen, Murder, Regret, Tennis, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:34:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9401945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gozufucker/pseuds/Gozufucker
Summary: Planning and executing a murder's always tough.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The author isn't finished with V3 or Hoshi's free time events, so no spoilers in the comments!

Hoshi huffed and climbed up the last few steps of the ladder, panting as he reached the rooftop. Some beads of sweat ran down the small tennis player's forehead, dribbling down onto the rooftop. He had no chance to rest or wipe his sweat away, stepping onto the opposite edge of the rooftop. His eyes focused on the local diner, lights emitting from the windows, hinting at the life that was bubbling inside the establishment. Ryoma rested one leg on the edge while the other took a knee, eyes squinting just a tad. He spotted his target eventually.

A broad shouldered man in a trench coat and a matching hat, enjoying some coffee while chatting with his unaffiliated friend, apparently waiting for more food to arrive. He'd positioned himself perfectly, right behind him. Ryoma dug around his backpack after he placed it down, fingers gripping onto the steel-crafted tennis ball. He laid it onto the roof as well, making sure it wouldn't roll off into the streets. People below didn't need to get hurt for his own personal vendetta. Only those members of the mafia needed to suffer. He dug out his tennis racket and weighed it in his hand, snorting in an amused manner. This wasn't the first victim, and it wouldn't be the last. Not until all of them were gone.

A soft mew cut his dark trail of thought, causing him to look over his shoulder in raw curiosity. A cat. A russian blue, to be specific. Seemed to be on it's nightly prowl. Someone owned it, considering the little collar it had. He stared at it, and the cat stared right back. This short standoff continued for what felt like a small eternity for the tennis player, although in truth it was only a minute at most. Softly the cat made it's way to Hoshi, tail swaying from side to side slowly. It seemed suspicious, perhaps curious by Hoshi's admittedly strange appearance. A small, barely noticeable smile etched itself onto his face as he extended his hand out.

The cat sniffed at it before then giving it a lick, followed by a mewl. Hoshi chuckled and ran his hand over the top of it's head, until he reached the back, ruffling there until the cat let out another mewl. "You should get going soon, friend." He weighed his options. He needed to do this before the man left. He quickly checked, eyes squinting. He was still there. The distance was too great to determine if he was about to leave, but he felt like he had enough time to pay more attention to the cat. Call it softness of the moment. His finger reached under it's chin.

"You're about to witness me killing someone," his voice was hushed. He didn't know why, there was no-one to hear him here besides the cat. "someone that deserves it. Don't you worry, I wouldn't kill without good reason." The cat purrs and rubs against the finger he's using to scratch the feline, until it pitter patters over and rubs it's head against his stomach and chin. He chuckles again, just as softly as before, using his hand to very carefully push the cat away. It tilts it's head without making a noise, seemingly questioning why Hoshi didn't return it's affection. He sighs and stands up, smiling with an almost sad quality behind it all.

"I can't play with you right now. Run off home." He grabs a hold of the steel ball and the tennis racket, turning his back to the cat. It sits down and stares at his back expectantly. He lifts the ball up and stares at the back of the man. He's reading a newspaper now, that much he can see, although he could be on the very last pages for all he knows. Hoshi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, spitting out the piece of candy in his mouth. It flips and falls down onto the pavement, thankfully hitting no-one. That'd draw attention up to the roof. His eyes rip open as he chucks the steel ball into the air. It doesn't go very high due to it's sheer weight, but it's more than enough for him to draw his tennis rack back.

The racket and the ball collide quickly, and it almost sounds like a sonic boom. The cat jumps and hisses at Hoshi, the ball flying through the air at an amazing speed, totally impossible for someone ordinary. But Hoshi wasn't anywhere near ordinary. "The super high school level tennis player..." The ball collides with the glass of the diner's window, breaking it instantly. The ball then connects with the back of the mafioso's head, cracking and breaking the skull easily. The death is near instant, but damn painful for those few seconds as the body flings forwards a little, forehead slamming against the wooden table, flipping it over from the force. Panic blares up inside the diner as Hoshi turns his back on the diner and walks over to the cat.

It still seems so scared. Hoshi reaches a hand over and scratches it behind the ear. "That man's going to die soon. The super high school level tennis player. You just witnessed why." Hoshi sighs and nabs another candy, biting into it. "It was a fun time. But I should get going." And so, he walks over to the ladder, and starts his descent. The cat stares, and soon leaves for another rooftop.

But the old russian blues wouldn't be over yet. Not for a long, long time.


End file.
